Under pressure...

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Coming back home on Wednesday night after my week away with Miss R, I started fretting as to what condition my house would be in, having left it in the 'care' of two adults of the male species.  As a precaution, I had already booked Lady H (she with an eye for a Dust Bunny) in for the Wednesday morning to try and bring some semblance of sanity to the kitchen, but would it be enough?

Walking through the front door just before midnight, I was greeted by a beautifully tidy hall.  The same could be said for the kitchen and the lounge which all smelt lovely.  The cushions were still plumped up on the sofa, there were fresh flowers on the kitchen table, and a large heart had been drawn on the chalkboard, welcoming me home.  I did wonder whether I'd walked into the wrong house, as further inspection revealed an empty airer in the laundry along with an empty ironing basket.  This was incredible, and I promised that I would be effusive in my thanks when the husband woke up in the morning.

Which I was.

He brushed it all off with a 'what did you expect...I'm not useless you know', and for the next twenty four hours his Brownie points soared.

Until yesterday afternoon.

Son number two, who is still painting the house, (by the time he finishes, it will be time to start again) let slip how horrified the husband was when he came back from work on Wednesday evening to discover that Lady H just does my downstairs (as it were).  So while son number two came to collect me from the airport, the husband was weilding a duster and vacuum with gusto, praying that my flight would be delayed. It was actually twenty five minutes early landing, and I would have loved to have been a fly on the handset of that call from son number two to the husband.

So yesterday I decided to do my bit of ironing, having washed my holiday stuff.  'Oh Mumpty', weedled son number two watching me through a cloud of steam, 'if I bring my clothes down, would you iron them too?'  Well of course this wasn't a problem, but as I worked my way through his pile of clothes, son number two said, 'Dad just left these in my room for me to do'.  

Basically, the husband had rehoused any crumpled clothing around the house just to ensure that all baskets were empty when I got back.

He is now in negative equity with regard to those Brownie points, and if he were a house, I'd be having him repossessed...



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